As I was plotting my ideas to get even with Snape, a knock on the dungeon door interupted my glorious revenge.
It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, beaming at me, and walked up to Snape's desk at the front of the room.
"Yes?" said Snape curtly.
"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."
Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.
"Potter has another hour of Potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "He will come upstairs when this class is finished."
Colin went pink. "Sir — sir, Mr. Bagman wants him," he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs. . . ."
"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."
"Please, sir — he's got to take his things with him," squeaked Colin. "All the champions —"
"Very well!" said Snape, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Potter—take your bag and get out of my sight!"
I slowly pulled my bag around my shoulder intently making Snape more angry before walking up to Colin and leaving the room.
"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" Colin said, starting to speak the moment I closed the dungeon door behind us. "Isn't it, though? You being champion?"
"Not really. It just feels normal to me. I'm sure it feels better for the other champions," I said to him.
"What do they want photos for, Colin?"
"The Daily Prophet, I think!" he replied after thinking about it for a moment.
'The daily prophet huh this means its the weighing of wands ceremony and that also mean that I will be meeting with Rita Skeeter.'
Now how should I handle her. Should I blackmail her with my knowledge of her animagus form. Or should I not even bother talking with her.
So many choices... Well, I'll go with the flow and decide what to do with her when the time comes.
"Good luck!" said Colin when they had reached the right room. I knocked on the door and entered.
I was in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard .
Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a Rita Skeeter.
Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation.
Fleur looked a good deal happier than I had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light.
A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.
"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come . . . nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment —"
"Yes, of course," I replied, not really that interested, since I already knew all that this entailed.
Although Bagman seemed not to hear my disinterest and started explaining why we were here anyway.
"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman.
"The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet. . . ."
"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes fixed on me.
"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at me. "The youngest champion, you know . . . to add a bit of color?"
"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is — if Harry has no objection?"
Before I could answer, Rita responded to Bagman with a swift, "Lovely," then stepped toward me, her hand suddenly clamping down on my arm, trying to pull me out of the room.
The keyword being tried since even with her trying her best I didn't move a single cm from my place.
Rita Skeeter seemed slightly taken aback by my lack of movement, her grip still firm on my arm as if she hadn't expected any resistance.
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I almost felt a smirk tug at the corners of my mouth.
"Harry, surely you wouldn't mind a brief conversation for the Daily Prophet?" she said, her voice oozing with fake sweetness.
"Actually, I would," I said coolly. "Especially since I don't remember agreeing to an interview with you before you rudely tried to drag me somewhere for it."
Rita's face twitched at my response, her grip loosening just a fraction as her eyes flickered with annoyance.
Seeing that her hands were still around my arm, I sent a quick jolt of electricity through my skin, just enough to make her yelp in surprise.
She immediately released me, stumbling back a step and smoothing her magenta robes with a sharp motion.
"Well, aren't you the prickly one?" she said, her smile now strained. "I was just trying to be polite and offer you a chance to be in the spotlight. After all, the youngest champion... that's newsworthy, don't you think?"
"You can just make a piece on the tournament as you're supposed to," I said, my voice cold.
"Don't buzz around me too much, you know, especially since I don't like bugs near me." I added, emphasizing the word bugs for extra effect,
Rita's expression shifted entirely. She even forgot her fake smile that she had tried to portray instead she just looked at me in shock.
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